


Unconsciously His

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cohabitation, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Obscurial Credence Barebone, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Post-Movie(s), Potions, Sleep Sex, Tropes, enamored graves, for credence at least, graves shushing during sex, oblivious credence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 18:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10224695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: To help Credence sleep without nightmares, Graves gives him a potion.The side effects aren't altogether a surprise, but they bring about something unexpected.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robokittens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Original Inspiration](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/273392) by Robokittens. 
  * Inspired by [Graves Goes To Hell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038740) by Anonymous. 



> i'd like to thank god and also satan and robokittens for writing the original fic that inspired this.  
> Graves Goes to Hell is also an inspiring factor.  
> but this is somehow less kinky....???

Credence had been having nightmares ever since the subway, well,  _ incident,  _ as the President had called it. Whatever happened after that, the finding of him, that occasion had its own classification.

It was all bullshit, and the month of respite he’d been given in the meantime was hardly proper payback for the torture he’d endured at the hands of the madman who had stolen and paraded around with his face for a week.

Credence was staying with him until such time that other living arrangements could be made, as far as Graves was aware, the former no maj boy had no living relations and no money to his name. For the boy, it was a source of stress and concern but for Graves, he honestly was grateful for the company, and though they had no true shared history, other than one fleeting moment that he’d rescued the boy from a torrential rainstorm with magic, and then obliviated him gently right after…

The boy had suffered from Grindelwald pretending to be him, but he’d understood easily enough that it had  _ all _ been a lie, almost from the beginning, and Tina, wonderful creature that she was, had explained it carefully.

So, they’d become unlikely roommates.

The nightmares kept him awake more so than Credence himself because, frankly the boy was powerful, and loud.

Earplugs and silencing charms would do little to no good when a freshly healed obscurus was residing in the house.

So he did what he liked to think he did best, and brewed a little dreamless sleep. At least, he thought that was the proper mix, as the silver swirls of potion melted into the warmed milk he’d poured it into, it  _ seemed  _ right.

Credence accepted it gratefully, always with mumbled sort of reply, and Graves would later wonder to himself, alone in his bed, why the ever loving Mercy Lewis that sort of thing was so damned appealing?

Shyness?

Dancing around him when he was spending every waking second there, in his apartment, was quite difficult.

Books could only distract so much. The boy practically  _ sizzled _ with power and potential, and merely needed to be molded and taught.

The horribly unflattering haircut the boy had arrived with had grown out slightly to something a little more soft and delicate, and rather hypnotizing. Graves found himself staring when the boy would do something silly as ask him to pass the salt or if he wanted milk in his tea, and the sharp cheekbones would flush pink and the words ‘Mister Graves, are you alright?’ seemed to leave the boy’s lips far too often.

Of course he wasn’t all right. He was living with a siren, or at least somehow the boy had to be distantly part veela.

*

 

Midnight, again, awakened by noises that came from the guest room. But Graves didn’t understand it, how could the boy’s magic be fighting the potion so hard to continue to give him nightmares?

The recipe could be adjusted, but only slightly. He didn’t want to risk hurting the boy.

He sighed, and eventually crept out of bed and crossed the hallway, hand poised to knock, before he resorted to wordless charming to test the knob, finding it unlocked.

He walked inside quietly and careful, unsure what he would find. The first night it had been Credence in full blown obscurus form, a black cloud hovering over the bed, shedding ash and spitting smoke.

Talking him down hadn’t been hard, but it had been mildly terrifying.

The boy was writhing on the bed, whimpering slightly, and Graves brought a hand to his temples, inching closer, wondering how best to yank him out of his dream state.

He didn’t want him being in pain any longer than…

Oh.

Graves blinked, and he realized the usual sounds he associated with pain were not at all like that, as he listened.

Breathy sighs were slowly evolving into keening moans, and the boy’s hands weren’t fitfully grasping at the sheets, he was  _ touching _ himself under the sheet, over his pajama pants.

Graves’ mouth went dry.

It was like he was being spelled to watch, looking away was unthinkable.

The boy wasn’t having a nightmare, he was having some kind of pleasurable...wet dream.

He gulped, and retreated just a step, to better maintain the illusion of guarding protector, and explain himself, if Credence should suddenly awaken.

“Oh-h-h… yes, please…”

Hesitant and soft, the boy’s voice was deafening in the silence of the room, and Graves found that his own hands had long since stopped twitching and wringing in front of his chest, and he was absentmindedly palming his own achingly hard cock, wondering what the hell had taken over him.

So he ran.

He didn’t spell the door closed or slam it, but he couldn’t stay, couldn’t watch, and see the gorgeous perfection set in front of him so temptingly like that.

Safe again inside his own room, he beelined for the bathroom, shedding his own sleep clothes like a snake from its skin, turning the water painfully hot, and jerking his hand roughly on his cock, barely allowing himself to imagine what it would be like to touch the boy himself, to see his brown eyes turn white as his power and orgasm washed over him, and Graves drew blood biting his lip to remain silent when he came, panting out his release.

 

*

 

The next morning, Credence was flushed and glassy eyed, and Graves could only find the strength to ask a pathetic cliche query,

“How did you sleep?”

“Very well Mister Graves, thank you.”

Long lashes brushed over the apples of his cheeks, and he ducked his gaze away to the floor and Graves just nodded. 

Excellent, he was feeling better after getting off, unconscious or not.

What he didn’t expect was for the boy to corner him after dinner, and quietly ask if there was any more of the sleeping potion.

“You don’t want to try sleeping, just alone?”

Getting addicted to potions was a rare occurrence, but it still happened now and then… however the pouting and almost cherry red of the boy’s bottom lip convinced him quickly enough, another dose wouldn’t hurt.

That night Graves didn’t even try to sleep, he simply waited to hear the happy sounds escaping from the boy’s room, and followed, like a moth to a flame, so he went gladly to his forbidden destruction.

At the edge of the door he watched as Credence laid on his stomach, sticking his pert ass in the air, before whining and then rutting himself off against the sheets, shivering in contentment and snuggling into the pillow once he’d sought out his release.

“My boy... “

Graves found himself murmuring, before halting his hand on his cock, over his sleep pants, and cursing, fleeing back to his room. That time he didn’t escape to the shower, he simply got under his own sheets, and pictured Credence’s pretty mouth on his own, and then lower, wrapped around the head of his cock, and spilled into his pants, making a mess of himself like some horny teenager.

It was what he’d regressed to, faced with the impossibility of the boy.

 

Before he knew it, two weeks had passed, and  _ every  _ night, Credence had persuaded him, or merely nudged him into giving him a cup of warm milk and more of the potion.

Graves shuddered out a sigh, and decided it had to end.

The only problem was that every night, he would continue to go to the boy’s room, and take, and take, more of his own bits of pleasure as the boy found his own.

One night it was daringly just stroking the boy off as he pressed his own cock between those plush lips, enjoying how incredibly well the boy seemed to follow unconscious orders to suckle and lick at anything in his mouth beyond fingers and thumb, and the another time he spelled his fingers slick and reached lower in the boy’s pants, pushing one then two fingers inside his tight quivering hole.

But he only wanted more.

 

There was only one thing left to be done.

So he doubled the dosage, and watched as innocently as he could while the boy downed the contents of his mug, clutched between trembling hands.

Graves barely snatched the empty cup away before the boy’s eyelashes started to flutter, and he almost swooned into his arms.

“Good boy.”

He carried the near weightless Credence to his room, and set him atop the sheets, not quite prepared to tuck him in yet.

Five minutes passed, and Graves knew he would be completely out by then.

So he looked his fill, and only after the image of the boy’s sleeping form had been burned into his mind, did he finally,  _ finally _ , touch.

A gentle stroke of the hand on his brow, pushing back stray dark curls from his pale skin, fingers dipping down over the softness of his cheeks before his harsh jawline, grazing the plushness of his lips, and he only allowed his thumb to linger a moment there.

Wordless and wandless magic had always been Graves’ speciality, and it took little effort to undress the boy, buttons undid themselves, while pants shimmied down slender hips and thighs in a heartstopping instant.

His hand quivered only slightly when it made contact with the boy’s bare shoulder, and over to press a palm against his heart. An even pounding was matched with slow steady breathing.

The dreams wouldn’t have started yet.

Graves was painfully hard though, and it wouldn’t hurt to indulge himself, just a little.

He leaned down, and brushed his mouth over Credence’s, a slow drag of his lips over the boy’s, pressing his tongue into the boy’s mouth gently, tasting the sweetness of the honey and smoothness of the milk, with only a tang of the potion’s aftertaste.

It wouldn’t affect him.

Before he knew it, he was climbing onto the bed, straddling the slim body, so that he could continue kissing the boy and keep touching him, slow, careful, still innocent touches.

If by some horrible miscalculation the boy woke, he could still claim he was only there to comfort and reassure.

When his hand slid further down, framing the curve of the boy’s waist and along the dip of his stomach, to graze lower, as his fingertips went along the soft silky skin of the boy’s cock, all those lies he told himself fell away.

He groaned, and bit the boy’s bottom lip, feeling as his body reacted, even asleep, arching up closer, and he swore he could feel Credence’s heart beating faster.

“Mister Graves…”

The words were low, almost impossible to hear, but Graves froze, and he pulled back to find that those dark eyes were still closed, and the boy had to be lost in a dream now.

About him.

How fascinating.

Graves smirked, and then shifted down, kneeling over the boy and putting his mouth to his chest, worrying his lips and teeth past a hardening nipple, in favor of getting ever nearer to the cock thickening against his stomach.

“Beautiful.”   
By now, if he didn’t come soon, he’d make a mess of himself with or without the boy’s accidental help, so he first vanished his clothing, and then spelled slick to his hand closest to the boys cock, watching as his lips parted and he moaned at the feeling, like he always did.

The last time, Graves had used only his hand inside the boy to help him along to his climax, while dreaming, whimpering and begging for whoever he saw in his mind to  _ please, please, stop distracting him. _

Fingers up his ass were meant to enhance his pleasure, not keep him from it, so Graves had changed tactics, and put his mouth on him, almost eager and yearning to feel the boy fall apart.

Credence had shattered moments later, his cock spurting up to his neck in his excitement, and he slept until nearly noon.

Trying to avoid feeling and looking smug was a lesson Graves had needed to learn very quickly.

But he couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to be inside the boy, or he would have double dosed him all for naught.

Credence was squirming and panting, his cock red and weeping on his skin, as Graves finally finished stretching him and pushed inside, just the head, ripping a groan from his own throat.

He would stay under and not be able to come nearly as quick, in theory, from the strength of the potion he’d consumed.

“Mister Graves… please…”

He’d barely gotten his cock fully pressed into the slick hot grasp of the boy’s ass when he spoke again, and Graves bent over him, and kissed him, breaking away only to shush him.

“My boy, be good for me.”

“I want to be, really I do.”

*

Graves had never felt such panic since Grindelwald first overtook him, than in that moment, as he caught the dark liquid stare of the boy upon him, and there was no mistaking it,  _ he was awake _ .

The how didn’t really matter.

How to fix it was more important.

Obliviating was the easiest solution, and Graves was already pulling back, summoning his wand to him, when a slim fingered hand was grasping his wrist, dragging it to the boy’s face, molding it to cup his cheek, and he found his gaze migrating to those lips, watching as they parted to deliver his salvation.

“Please, don’t stop.” 

The next thing he knew, the boy’s other hand was on his cock, keeping the head of it buried inside of him, and Graves’ eyes closed with the force of his orgasm shuddering through him, taking him by surprise.

Maybe it had been the aid of magic, or maybe the boy simply had that great a hold on him, mentally and physically.

“Keep going.”

Graves’ jaw dropped, and he tried to form the words to say what he needed to, ‘I can’t fuck you when I’ve just come, why would you even want me to?’ and instead just pressed closer, to kiss away the worries, and he could feel the boy humming against him in contentment.

“Please, make me come, like I always do in my dreams. It’s because of you, only you.”

Graves dropped kisses along the boy’s jawline and to his neck, finally making a mark he wouldn’t have to heal and magic away, feeling him arch up against him, bringing a rough hand to the boy’s cock,

“Go on, come for me, my boy.”

“Ungh… Mister Graves, ahh…”

Perhaps it was a trick of the lack of light, but the boy almost seemed to glow, even as he trembled under Graves’ touch, and his breathing slowed, his heartbeat evening, as his eyes closed.

Could it be? 

Had the potion taken effect again?

He waved a hand to clean them both, and rolled back onto his side to watch the boy sleep for a few moments, before concluding that yes, somehow, he’d drifted off and there was every chance in the world he might chock the entire event up to a dream.

*

Breakfast was about the same, and Credence even remained meek and quiet when asking for the milk for his tea. Graves tried not to count the days of his vacation and recovery, but the calendar hanging over the sink in the kitchen was spelled to indicate he had precisely seven days left, unless he spoke to the President and requested more. He was highly tempted to do no such thing.

He’d barely begun to gather the dishes and fill the sink when he felt slender arms sliding around his waist, and a cheek pressed against his back between his shoulders.

To say the contact was jarring was an understatement. It was far more arousing than it should have been, only doubled over by the firm press of a body rubbing against his trouser covered backside.

“Mister Graves… can we go back to bed after you finish there?”

“Credence! Ah, what are you talking about? After breakfast we go read in front of the firepla-oh fuck.”

One of the boy’s hands shifted from his stomach down to caress his hardening cock, and he thrust his hips forward on pure instinct.

“Please… last night was so wonderful. I didn’t want to stop, but I just got so sleepy.” 

Lips were now hot against the side of his neck, and the glass in his hand was in severe danger.

“Credence… you just had a nice dream, and you’re being highly…”

He couldn’t speak anymore with the boy moving to his front, still pressing the heel of his palm into his cock, dragging a moan from him, never mind the fact his hands were dripping with soapy water, Credence was kissing him, of his own free will, and it was incredible.

“I think we both know it was real. Please, tell me you wanted it too, and you didn’t just pull me out of my dream for my own betterment or something mumbo jumbo-y like that?”

Graves almost growled, before nipping at the boy’s bottom lip, eliciting a squeak from him,

“How could I keep my hands off you?“

“Me?”

Graves tightened his hold, water soaking through Credence’s thin trousers,

“Yes. You’re the most breathtaking thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, and you’ve been right here, all this time. Within reach.”

Credence ducked his head, cheeks pinking, and Graves swore he got harder from the sight.

“God, I’m going to make you sing, my boy, now that there’s no need for quiet.”

He scooped  _ his _ boy into his arms and walked, not ran, to the bedroom before kicking the door shut behind them and he could feel Credence kissing and nuzzling into the side of his neck.

“Mister Graves… will you let me touch  _ you _ ?”

Graves chuckled,

“How would you like to do that?”

“Here.”

A hand fumbled back down to cup his still hard cock and he bit back a groan,

“All right.”

He deposited Credence onto the bed and snapped his fingers to vanish their clothing, expediting the process, and he saw dark eyes widen as the boy stared at so much newly exposed skin.

“You’re so handsome Mister Graves.”

While one of the boy’s hands tentatively stroked over his cock, another splayed over his bare chest, and Graves couldn’t help the fond smile that quirked over his lips.

“I could say the same about you, my boy.”

Further darkening to the boy’s cheeks indicated he’d heard perfectly, but he chose not to reply, instead leaning closer to press his mouth to Graves’ stomach in an innocent kiss, before moving down, past his navel to nose at the base of his cock, before dragging his lips along the length, and the languid sigh turned into a strangled moan, as a hand found the boy’s hair and the other cupped his cheek.

“Go on, put me in your mouth.”

Credence might not have remembered that he’d technically done it before, but he did remarkably well the second time also.

*

  
**end**


End file.
